But, hast thou a heart for melting pity?
For better be a brute,
Than lack it under that most godlike form:
And yet I do thee wrong; for even now,
Thou didst add graces to that manly cheek,
With scalding tears: and for whom do you this?
For one that neither asks, nor merits it.
Enter Wortimerus and Catagrinus.
Wort. How doth she now?
Pas. Alas! she wanders yet: her mind’s diseas’d.